


This Side of Loving

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old West, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-"Wagon Train."  Vin ends up in a bad situation, and Chris is slow to respond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Side of Loving

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #3. There is a gen version of this story, "This Side of the Grave."

          . . . The six peacekeepers were up before sunrise and ready to ride as soon as there was enough light for them to see the trails they needed to follow.  Buck led the others off to the east to find the men who had nearly killed Vin while Chris and Nathan headed west, hoping to find Vin himself.

The trail the two men followed, which grew even easier to see once the tracker's feet had begun to bleed, allowed them to cover the dry desert ground at a fast lope.  And, as they followed the bloody path back toward Four Corners, Chris cursed himself again and again for not going out to look for the tracker sooner.  If Vin died it would be his fault, as surely as if he'd put a gun to the man's head and pulled the trigger himself.

But what haunted him the most was _why_ he hadn't gone looking for the tracker sooner.  Pride.  Simple, arrogant pride.  He'd been angry that Vin had cast aside their friendship so easily.  And for what?  A married woman?

 _No_ , he corrected himself, knowing better.  _For love_.  And love was never easy.  It was complicated and dear, something he knew better than many men.

And there, he knew, was the real root of the problem.  Almost losing Vin to Charlotte – the first woman he'd ever seen Tanner show the slightest interest in – had forced him to look far too closely at his own feelings for the tracker.  And what he'd found had both frightened and excited him in ways he'd hadn't felt since Sarah was alive.

Pulling himself away from the increasingly intimate thoughts, Chris knew they should soon be seeing the small community of Four Corners appear on the horizon.  _How in Heaven's name did Vin manage to get this far?_

"Man's got more grit 'n ten others put t'gether," Nathan said softly, and Chris realized with a start that he must have asked the question out loud.  "Bone, muscle an' grit," the healer continued, "held t'gether by pure mule-headed stubbornness."

Chris allowed himself a small smile over the description.  It was true, too true, sometimes.  He just hoped this turned out to be one of them.  What he'd seen at the camp where Vin had been held still haunted him, especially the empty grave.  How in the world had Tanner clawed his way out of that grave?  How had he found the strength to stand, let alone to start walking back to town?  Maybe Nathan was right, maybe it was just grit and stubbornness.

          Then, in front of them, a small rise appeared and they continued to follow the blood trail to the top, where it suddenly vanished.  Both men scanned the bottom of the elevation with concerned gazes.

          "There!" Nathan cried, urging his gelding down the slope to the wash below.  Vin lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

          Chris tried to start his gelding forward, but found he was unable to urge the horse into motion.  He stared at the naked, still body lying below, the sight of it both terrifying Larabee and sending a spark of pure lust shooting into his groin.  But that unholy passion immediately disappeared under the weight of what he was seeing.  The tracker's skin was sunburned where it wasn't covered with bruises, dirt, blood, or all three.  He knew then that Vin had given his all to get back home; to get back to _him_.  And the truth of that realization shook Larabee to his core.

          Vin loved him, of that he was absolutely sure.  But did Tanner feel the same things Chris was feeling now?

          He watched Nathan jump down from his horse and scrambled over to the sprawled tracker.  With a trembling hand, the healer reached out and felt along Vin's neck, searching for a heartbeat.

"I don't know how, but he's _alive!_ " Jackson called up to Larabee, his voice breaking on the last word.

          _Alive_.  The word lanced through Chris like a knife, cutting the invisible bonds that had held him motionless.  _Alive_.  He gigged the gelding's flanks, the black hurrying to the bottom of the rise.  Larabee was off his horse before the gelding stopped moving.

          "I don't know how, but he's alive," Nathan repeated, shaking his head, his hands gently touching the tracker's back, arm, shoulder and head as if he were unsure where to begin his examination.

          Larabee reached out, lightly touching the tracker's shoulder as well.  "Damn!" he hissed, jerking his hand away from the unnatural sensation that greeted his fingertips.  "His skin feels like hot ice!"

          "It was a cool night," Nathan agreed, nodding.  "Got t' get him warmed up.  Start me a fire, and get both our bedrolls.  Do it quick."

          Chris nodded and hurried to carry out the healer's instructions, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  He couldn't lose Vin now.  Not now.  Not before he had a chance to talk to him, to tell him he was sorry for leaving him out here so long.  Not before he knew how Vin felt about him.

While Larabee worked, Nathan examined Vin, trying to determine the extent of the tracker's many injuries.  "Feels like he's got a couple 'a busted ribs," the healer muttered out loud.  "Bruises all over . . . some burns, too . . . he took a helluva beatin'  . . . and a good hit t' the head, too . . . some of these cuts are infected pretty bad. . ."

          "Bedrolls are ready," Chris interrupted the stomach-churning litany.

          "Come help me lift him and turn him over, but go easy.  He wakes up and starts t' fight us, them busted ribs might stab his lung good."

          Chris nodded, his hands starting to shake before he even reached for the injured man _.  God, Vin, what happened to you?  Just don't die on me, pard.  Please don't die on me.  Not yet.  Not ever_.

          Together they carefully lifted Tanner, turned him over, and laid him on the stacked bedrolls.  Chris shivered when there was no reaction at all from the tracker.  "Nathan?" he asked hoarsely, fear making his heart pound so hard he wasn't sure he'd be able to hear the healer's answer.

          "I'll do all I can," Jackson promised him, checking the injuries on the tracker's chest.

Larabee took a deep breath and went back to work, building up the small fire he'd already started earlier.  Nathan moved down to look at the tracker's feet.

          "Damn it," Jackson hissed.

Larabee looked over at the man sharply.  "What?" he demanded, fear making his guts roil.

"His feet are a real mess," the healer said, shaking his head.  "Got a helluva sunburn, too . . . his wrists and ankles are all torn up. . ."

          "What next?" Chris asked him, the small fire burning well and the list of injuries too much to endure.

          Nathan looked up at the gunslinger and, seeing the fear in the man's eyes, knew he had to give Larabee _something_ to do.  "Set two of the canteens close to the fire to warm some water.  I want t' get him cleaned up so I can see these wounds better.  Some are gonna need t' be cleaned out and stitched 'fore the infection gets any worse."

          Larabee nodded and went back to work, setting the canteen close to the flames, then gathering up more fuel for the fire from the stunted brush and trees scattered along the edge of the crooked wash.

          Nathan hurried to his horse and untied his saddlebags, carrying them over to Vin.  He sat down on the ground next to the injured man, digging into the pouches to remove bandages, ointment, powders and other items he knew he'd need.

          Once the water warmed, Chris and Nathan gently and thoroughly washed the dirt, blood, and sweat from Vin's skin, which they found was covered by more welts, bruises, and cuts than they had first suspected, along with several small burn marks.  Nathan treated the worst of the cuts and burns, bandaging a few of the deeper ones.  Next, he bound the man's ribs, saving his feet for last.

          After carefully cleaning the tracker's soles, the debridement came next.  And when that was done, Nathan treated them with carbolic and wrapped them in bandages.  As the healer worked, Vin moaned softly, trying weakly to fight him, but his struggles stopped as soon as Chris began talking to the unconscious man, his hand resting gently on Vin's shoulder as he spoke.

          "Can we get him into town?" Larabee asked the healer when Nathan finished and sat back on his heels.

          "Not 'til he warms up and gets some color back."

          Larabee glanced up at the sky.  They had found Vin an hour or so after noon, but that had been several hours ago and it was already getting close to dark.  And, with the darkness, he knew, the temperatures would surely fall again.

          As if reading the gunslinger's thoughts, Nathan said, "I know it ain't the best, but it's better 'n him turnin' cold and dyin' on us during the ride back.  I'll build up a couple mo' small fires 'round him so we can keep 'im warm though the night.  I'm hopin' he'll wake up some an' take water and medicine once he's warmed – he needs both as soon as we can get them into him."

          Chris nodded, staring out at the distant outline of Four Corners – so close, and yet so impossibly far away.  Then, glancing back at the healer, he swallowed hard and asked, "Tell me the truth, Nathan.  Will he live?"

          "Don't know, Chris," Nathan answered softly, unable to meet the blond's desperate green eyes.  "He took a helluva beating–"

          "This was more than just a beating," Chris interrupted, his voice cold with fury.

          Nathan nodded.  "Yeah . . . yeah, it was . . . and he's been out in the sun an' the cold fo' a few days; probably ain't had much t' eat or drink durin' that time either . . . I'd be lyin' if I didn't tell y' he's in a bad way – I can't say no different – but he ain't got a bad fever yet, and his lungs still sound clear; that's in his favor.  If he wakes up and takes some water an' herbs, that'll help, too.  We got to get some water into 'im quick.  Longer he goes without it, the worse the odds are he'll pull through."

          Chris nodded, willing to grasp whatever thread of hope the healer could give him.

          "I'll tell y' this, too," Nathan added.  "We're gonna have t' build us a travois – rig it up so we can carry it b'tween the horses – t' keep 'im from gettin' knocked along the ground."

          "He can ride with me," Chris offered, wanting more than anything to hold the man tight in his arms and force him to live.

          "Thought 'bout that, and it might come t' it, but it'll be best if we can keep him lyin' down flat.  It'll keep the blood from poolin' in his feet and hurtin' him like hellfire the way they's all torn up."

          "We'll build the litter then," Larabee stated determinedly, willing to do whatever he could to make sure Vin survived.  Vin _had_ to survive, he couldn't loose him.  He _wouldn't_ lose him.  Not yet.  "What do you want me to do now?"

          "Ain't nothing t' do 'cept wait.  I'm gonna mix up some herbs, then we'll see if we can't get 'im to drink some down."

          Larabee found as comfortable a position as he could next to the injured man and began his vigil.  _You have to live_ , he silently told the tracker.  _I want the chance to set things right between us, Vin.  You die on me now– . . . Just don't do it, Vin.  Please.  You're stronger than any man I've met, you can beat this . . . you have to . . . I need you.  I haven't said that in a long time, but it's true._

          He reached out and brushed his knuckles over the tracker's stubble-covered cheek.  The skin below his touch was still oddly hot and cold at the same time, but the cold wasn't as icy as it had been earlier, and there was a slight flush of color on the man's cheeks now that wasn't due to fever or sunburn.

          "You just rest," Chris told the tracker softly.  "We'll get you home.  I promise you that.  You hear me?  We're taking you home."

          Tanner stirred restlessly under the blankets, but he didn't open his eyes.

          "Let's see if he'll take a little water from ya," Nathan said, handing Chris a cup.  "Even a few sips will help 'im."

          Larabee set the cup down, then cradled the back of Vin's head and gently lifted him up.  With Nathan's help they positioned Vin so the tracker was leaning back against Chris's chest.  Then Larabee reached for the cup and pressed it to the man's lips, saying, "Come on, Vin, take a little water.  You can do it."

          The tracker jerked slightly and moaned, trying to turn his head away.

          Chris tipped the cup up, letting a little of the liquid dribble into Vin's mouth.  Most of it ran right back over his lips, but he swallowed some of it as well and that small amount of water seemed to bring the tracker around a little and, while he didn't open his eyes, he moaned softly, greedily sucking the drops off the lip of the tin cup.

          Chris kept tilting tiny amounts of water into the injured man's mouth until, finally, Vin had finished the entire cup of water, then, with Nathan's help, he lowered the tracker back down again and tucked blankets up around his shoulders.

          Taking up his vigil again, Chris bowed his head and silently prayed for the first time in almost three years.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Middle of the night**

 

          Vin moaned softly as he lay, shivering weakly under the blankets from both Chris's and Nathan's bedrolls.  The healer had built up the fires as much as he dared, and still the tracker trembled, his teeth sometimes chattering in the quiet stillness of predawn.  The scattered fires were more than enough to keep Nathan and Chris warm, but they hadn't seemed to help Vin much.

          Desperate to warm the tracker so his already abused muscles would stop seizing up with the chills, Chris stretched out alongside Vin and carefully inched closer and closer to him, offering him the only help he could in the form of his own body heat.  He was too afraid to actually reach out and pull the tracker against him, sure that any pressure on the dark, purpling bruises would only be additional agony for the injured man.  He spoke softly, muttering encouragement without really realizing what, exactly, he was saying.

          "Easy, Vin . . . just take it easy . . . hang on, pard, please . . . you can do this, Vin, I know you can . . . just keep fighting . . . fight; you've been doing it all your life, so I know you know how.  You just keep fighting and we'll do the rest.  I promise."

          A few moments later, Vin shifted closer to the proffered warmth on his own, nestling into it with a soft sigh and Chris allowed himself a small, grateful smile.  _That's it_ , he silently told the tracker, _I'm not going to hurt you, Vin . . . Not any more than I already have . . . those bastards, when Buck and the others bring 'em back, I swear they'll pay for this_.  He sighed softly, wondering what he himself should have to pay for his part in Tanner's suffering.  _I should've gone looking for you the day before those drovers rode in . . . Christ, Vin, I'm sorry . . . not that it makes a damned bit of difference now, but I am sorry. ._.

Reaching up, Chris lightly ran his hand over Vin's hair.  Several long minutes later, the tracker finally began to relax and, slowly, the chills subsided and his half-grunted pants faded at last into the long, deep breaths of slumber.

"I think he's just sleepin' now," Nathan said softly from where he sat close by, keeping the fires burning strong.

Larabee started to pull away from the tracker, but the healer's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

          "No, Chris, you stay right there.  I want him t' stay calm an' sleep.  Want him t' stay warm, too.  This seems t' be workin' just fine for all them things."

          Chris nodded, strangely content to remain right where he was.  Why it should feel so natural to hold the man in his arms he wasn't sure, and he didn't spend time thinking about it, too grateful that Tanner seemed to be resting more easily to bother.

The gunslinger closed his eyes, listening to the soft sound of the tracker's breath, letting it slowly lull him into sleep as well.

 _Live,_ he thought as he started to drift off _.  You have to live, Vin . . . Just keep fighting for a little while longer. . . ._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris woke with the dawn, immediately aware of two things, his need to relieve himself and the utter stillness of the man lying next to him.  The first was completely forgotten as the implications of the second asserted themselves in his sleep-fogged mind.

          "Nathan!" he cried, jerking up and back so he could look down at Vin.

          The quiet desperation in Larabee's voice jolted the healer awake and Jackson quickly scrambled over to the tracker's side, afraid of what he might just find there.  Reaching out, he pressed his fingertips to Vin's throat, finding a steady, albeit weaker beat than he would have hoped to find given Larabee's cry.  He glanced up, meeting the blond's worried gaze and said, "He's just sleepin', Chris."  But Larabee was still gulping in air, staring at Tanner with wide eyes.  "Y' hear me?" Jackson pressed.  "He's _alive_.  He's just sleepin'."

          Larabee dipped his head and scrubbed a hand over his face, willing the tears that stung his eyes to go away.  "Damn, Nathan, he's so . . . still."

          Jackson nodded, taking the opportunity to go ahead and check the injured man's wounds.  "Man been hurt this bad, sometimes his sleep can be deep, real deep.  We'll let him rest a bit longer, then I want ya to try and get some tea into 'im, all right?"

          Chris nodded.  "I'll get started on that litter," he said, his voice sounding raw in his ears.

          Nathan nodded.  "I'll make some coffee.  Get yo'self a cup."

          Larabee nodded, stumbling off to take care of his own needs, and then to find some wood he could use to rig up the litter.  It took him a while, but he finally found what he needed and carried it back to the camp.  Sitting down on the ground, he poured himself a cup of the coffee and went to work on the travois.  He watched Nathan as he lashed the branches together with strips cut and torn off his spare shirt.  The healer was cleaning a few of the infected wounds again, then checked Tanner's feet again and frowned.

          "What is it?" Chris asked him, trying not to sound as frightened as he felt.

          "Infection.  It's gettin' worse, and his fever's building.  I ain't got enough supplies here fo' 'im."

          Chris sighed softly.  "Buck and the others will probably catch up to us this afternoon if they caught up to those two. . ."

          Nathan nodded.  "Hope so," was all he said, and the tone sent a chill snaking down Larabee's back.  He looked away from Vin, determined to get the travois finished as quickly as he could and cursing himself the entire time.  He'd been such a fool, a damned fool.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~ * ~ *

**That afternoon**

 

          Vin's fever climbed slowly over the course of the day.  Nathan built a small lean-to and draped his saddle blanket over it in order to protect the tracker from the worst of the sun.  He and Larabee had also dressed Tanner in the rest of spare clothes from their bedrolls – Chris's pants, Nathan's shirt – which also helped protect him from the sun, but the healer glanced out at Four Corners and said, "We've waited long 'nough, Chris.  We got t' head fo' town now.  I don't think he'll make it through another night like the last one."

          Larabee nodded, then stood and began breaking their camp.  When he was almost done, he walked over to get the horses ready.  Once their gear was loaded and the litter was rigged up between the two geldings, neither of which were happy about the situation, he walked back to where Nathan was wiping Vin's face with a damp cloth.

"Damn near out 'a water, too," the healer said with a tired sigh.

          "The horses are ready."

          Nathan nodded and stood.  Together they lifted Vin and carried him to the travois, settling him on it gently.  Chris waited, keeping the horses calm while the healer went back for a blanket, covering the injured man with it and then tying him down on the litter with leather straps he carried in his saddlebags.

          "You mount first," Chris instructed, waiting for Nathan before gathering his own reins and swinging into his black's saddle.

          They headed for home, keeping the horses to a walk.  Between them the travois jerked a little as the geldings picked their way across the desert.  Vin moaned from time to time in response, but he never really woke.

          "He goin' to be able to take this?" Chris called out.

          Nathan looked back over his shoulder, studying the injured man for a moment.  "Ain't sure.  If it gets too bad, I'll dose him with laudanum and let him ride with one of us, but I'd rather not do it if I don't have to."

          "Just say the word," Chris replied, wishing the others had gotten back before they'd had to leave.  Buck's big gray could easily carry two people the rest of the way home.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris's gun was in his hand before he realized who had ridden up on them.

          "Whoa, easy there, pard," Buck said, flashing the gunslinger a grin, but it faded the moment he saw Vin.  "How's he doin'?"

          "Not good," Larabee replied, his gaze locked on the two strangers, their hands lashed to their saddlehorns, their horses being led by Josiah and JD.  "These the bastards who did this to Vin?"

          Buck nodded.

          Larabee aimed at the younger of the two prisoners.  The man flinched and turned his head away, mumbling pleas to spare is life.

          "Chris, no," Buck said, reining his gray in closer and putting himself between Larabee and the two men, "this ain't the way.  At least not here, not now.  Let's get Vin home, then we'll worry 'bout what t' do with these two."

          Chris fought the strong desire to just shoot the two men and be done with it, but reason finally won out.  He slammed his Colt back into his holster and looked away from the men, snarling, "We stop here.  Ezra, you and Buck take Vin next.  And make damned sure he doesn't get jerked around too much."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**That evening**

 

          They reached Four Corners just after dark.  Josiah lifted Vin off the travois and carried him, cradled in his arms, up to the clinic, Nathan following behind them, looking worried.  Buck and JD took the two prisoners to the jail.  And Ezra followed Chris to the saloon where the gunslinger ordered a glass of whiskey, gulped it down, and immediately ordered another.

          Inez glanced over Larabee's shoulder to Ezra, who gave her a signal from behind the gunslinger's back.  She smiled at Chris, saying, "Go sit down, Señor, I will bring you your drink, and some food."

          "Ain't hungry," he said, but then added, "I appreciate the offer, Inez."

          She nodded.  "Go.  Sit.  I will bring it."

          Chris headed for his usual table in the corner and she turned back, pouring a shot glass half full with whiskey, then added water to fill it the rest of the way.  She stirred it and then took it over to him.

          "Might as well bring me the bottle," he told her as soon as he tossed the second shot back.

          She nodded, saying, "Si, señor," before she turned and walked back to the bar.  She took down a bottle and poured half the contents into an empty one, filling Larabee's the rest of the way with water.  She stirred it up and handed it to Ezra when he said, "Allow me to take that to Mr. Larabee, my dear."

          "Is Vin all right?" she asked him, glancing at the worn-out looking gunslinger.

          "I'm afraid our Mr. Tanner is not well.  Mr. Jackson is doing all he can for him, however, and Nathan does seem to be able to perform miracles.  I just pray this will be another example of his amazing talents."

          Taking the watered-down whiskey, the gambler delivered it to Larabee's table, setting it in front of the man before joining an ongoing poker game, sitting so he could keep an eye on the blond while he played.

          Chris nodded his thanks and reached for the bottle, filling his empty glass.  He stared into the amber-colored liquid, but all he could see was the tracker's tortured body.  He gulped the drink down, trying to chase the image away, but it remained, taunting him accusingly.

          It was his fault . . . if he had just trusted his gut . . . if he hadn't been so damned stubborn . . . if he'd asked the man where he was going, and why . . . if he'd just been a friend . . . And, even given how he'd treated him, Vin had still tried to get back to town, back to him.

          Why?

          But Larabee knew the answer and that prompted him to fill his glass again.

          He couldn't believe Vin would feel the same things he felt for the tracker.  He just couldn't.  The feelings were wild and uncontrollable – feral.  They crept up on him and attacked in his dreams, a tumult of images, lust and love and two bodies, joining together in ways wholly unnatural.  And then he would wake, shaking, spilling his seed, desires more savage than any he'd ever felt for Sarah coursing through his blood.

          Vin could never feel like that.  Could he?

          He knew now that was one reason he had let his anger win out over his good sense.  And that damnable victory might just cost him the man he loved, the man he wanted in his life, and in his bed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          In the clinic, Nathan and Josiah laid Vin on the narrow bed and carefully undressed him so the healer could check his healing wounds, making sure they hadn't suffered on the trip.  He cleaned some, added salves and powders to others.  And, while not truly awake, the tracker still tried to fight the treatment.

Josiah captured the younger man's hands in his own, holding them and praying softly when he felt the tracker's fever burning through his battered skin.

Almost an hour later, Vin still lay naked on the narrow bed, weakly tossing as that same fever continued to savage his already brutalized body.  Josiah continued to speak softly to the injured man while he bathed his chest, neck and face with a damp cloth, trying to keep him cool.  More damp cloths covered Tanner's hips and legs.

          "Wish Chris was here," Nathan said softly as he cleaned Tanner's feet again, trying to get the upper hand on the infection.  "He quieted right down when Chris was with 'im out there in the desert."

          "I have a hunch brother Larabee's fighting his own demons right about now," Josiah replied, taking in the extent of the younger man's injuries yet again and wishing that they'd just killed the two men responsible when they'd found them.

          The door to the clinic opened and Buck entered, walking over to the bedside.  He looked down at Vin, paled, and glanced quickly away.  "Good Lord, but he's catawamptiously chawed up," he said thickly, his face turning greenish-gray.

          Nathan stood and sighed heavily, shaking his head.  "It just ain't lookin' good for 'im," he said softly.  "Infection's still hangin' on and his fever's climbin' . . . He ain't really woke up since we found him.  I can't get enough water or medicine into him like this."

          "You send Chris out?" Buck asked, frowning as he glanced around the clinic.

          Nathan shook his head, saying, "Figured he was helpin' you and JD with the two who done this."

          "Damn," the ladies' man sighed, jaw muscle popping.  "I'll send 'im over in a little while . . . might have t' sober him up some first," he said, then turned and stalked out.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Buck found Chris right where he expected to – in the saloon.  Seated at his corner table, Larabee was just tipping out the last shot from a bottle of whiskey.

Buck glowered at the blond and started over to him only to be intercepted by Ezra, who steered the ladies' man toward the bar with a loud, "Ah, Mr. Wilmington, I see you've taken care of those two miscreants. . ."  When they reached the bar he added in a much quieter tone, "I had Inez water down the bottle, but Mr. Larabee has still made amazing progress in the short time since we returned."

          Buck glanced over at Chris, who was staring off into the shadows, lost in his own recriminations.  The ladies' man was familiar with the expression and it sent a chill snaking down his back to curl up heavily in his guts.  He knew with certainty that if they lost Vin, they would lose Chris as well.

"I'll take care of it," he said softly.

          "If you require any assistance, you need only ask, my friend."

          Buck looked back at the gambler, a little surprised by the offer, and grinned.  "Thanks, Ez, but I'm hoping he'll listen t' reason."

          "Well, they say there's a first time for everything," Ezra muttered under his breath as Wilmington started over to Chris's table.

 

* ~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin lay, tossing weakly on the bed.  He cried out in what Josiah thought must be Kiowa or Comanche, or some other Indian dialect.  It sounded like he was talking to someone, and whatever they were arguing about, Vin seemed to be on the losing side of the conversation.

He wrung out another cloth and laid it over the tracker's chest, Nathan doing the same with others across Tanner's legs.

          "Easy, son, easy," Josiah said softly, reaching up to push the tangled, sweat-sodden hair off the tracker's forehead and face.  "Fever feels like it's come down some," he commented to Nathan.

          The healer nodded.  "Wounds are drainin' a little less last time I checked, too.  Nothing more we can do fo' 'im now, 'cept wait and keep 'im cool."

          "Then that's what we'll do, brother."

          "Wish there was more.  Maybe when Chris gets here. . ."

          Josiah nodded.  "I can see if he'll take some more water."

          Nathan shook his head.  "Spilled more 'n he drank last time.  Don't want t' waste the medicine.  I'll get Chris to try when he gets here."

          "You're assuming he'll come."

          Nathan paused, his hands in the basin of water.  "You don't think he will?  With Vin lookin' like that?"

          Josiah thought a moment and then said, "Oh, he'll come.  I'm just not sure how much help he's going to be when he gets here."

          Nathan nodded his understanding.  He had seen the guilt in the man's eyes when they had found Vin, and it hadn't gotten any better since then.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin felt like he was running through an endless, blistering night, unable to stop and unsure where he was, or where he was supposed to be going.  Pain was his constant companion, dogging his heels every step of the way, clawing through his body with red-hot talons that shredded his body and his soul.

          In the far distance he could hear voices, sometimes one, sometimes more than one, but he couldn't make out who was speaking, or what was being said.  The voices were oddly comforting, though, and they gave him hope, even if something felt missing.

          He continued on through the darkness, fighting the agony that gripped him, struggling to reach the voices, but never seeming to get any closer.

          _Damn it!_

          He stumbled to a stop, his hands braced just above his knees as he bent over, gasping for breath.  Sweat rolled off his naked body like rainwater.

          Where the hell was he?

          He looked around again, squinting, trying to find some feature in the black landscape that he could identify, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing.

          How had he gotten here?  Wherever the hell "here" was.

He couldn't remember.

He forced himself on, trying to outrun the agony that threatened to overwhelm him.  The voices called to him, a beacon in the darkness.  But now a new voice joined them, one that seemed familiar somehow, and he felt like he should know who it was.  That voice touched something deep inside him.  He slowed, trying to listen to it, but the agony flared again and he picked up his pace, pushing on doggedly.

He had to reach that voice.  It sounded so familiar . . . like the promise of relief, of hope, if he could only reach it . . . but it was so far away . . . impossibly far away.

          From time to time, the ghost of his Kiowa sister appeared next to him, reaching out, trying to help him when he stumbled, but he had steadfastly refused her help.  He had to keep running.  He had to escape from this place.  There was something he was supposed to do and if he reached for her he knew he'd die before it was done.

          He couldn't die.  Not yet.  Not until he'd finished whatever it was he had to do . . . whenever he got out of this place . . . wherever this was . . . God, he was tired, and he hurt so bad.  He wanted to stop.  He wanted to take her hand and be done with it, but he couldn't.  He just couldn't.

          It was the voice, the familiar voice.  He had to reach it.

          And then he remembered why: Larabee.

          He had to get back to Four Corners.  He had to get back to Chris and the others.

But where was the town?

Where was he?

Had it gotten dark again?  Was he still walking across the desert?

          He glanced around, but he still couldn't make out any shapes in the landscape, and there were no stars in the endless sky above him to guide him.

He stumbled to a halt.  Where the _hell_ was he?

          The voice sounded louder now, and it was calling to him.

          _Chris?_

He turned, trying to decide which direction Larabee's voice was coming from, but he couldn't tell.  Still, it _was_ getting louder.

_Chris?_

          He concentrated on his friend's voice and started running again, running toward the voice.  _Keep, talkin', Chris.  I'll find ya.  I swear I will.  I won't let you down again.  I give y' m' word, Cowboy.  Just keep talkin'. . . ._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Stalking over to Larabee's table, Buck stood, his hands on his hips.  "What the hell do y' think you're doing, stud?"

          Chris looked up at the ladies' man, his eyes full of pain and remorse.  "He's dyin', Buck," he choked.

          "Last I saw, _he_ was still fightin' . . . _He_ was still tryin' to live . . . Can you say the same?"

          That got the blond's attention and Larabee looked up at the ladies' man, green eyes narrowing.

          "No.  Don't tell me.  Let me tell _you_ ," Buck continued, heedless of the danger flashing in those stormy green eyes.  "Chris-Almighty-Larabee isn't fightin'.  Hell no!  Chris-Almighty-Larabee is sittin' in the saloon, drinkin' himself blind while his best friend's over in the clinic, fightin' for his life!  _Alone!_ "

          "That's enough, Buck," Larabee hissed, his shoulders drawing up as he cast a furtive glance around the room at the patrons who were watching them now.

          "No, I don't think it _is_ enough, Chris," Wilmington said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across the table from his long-time friend.  Blue eyes locked on green, neither man willing to look away first, which suited Buck just fine.  He wanted Larabee's complete attention for what he had to say next.  "You listen to me, Chris, and you listen good.  I watched you damn near kill yourself after Sarah and Adam died, and I'm not going to sit here and watch it happen all over again.  And I sure as hell am not going to let you do it while Vin's still _alive_.  What the hell're you doin'?  You should be over at the clinic, talkin' to him, keepin' him fightin' when he's too damned tired to fight any more.  You should be _there_ , damn you, helping Nathan and Josiah take care of that boy.  But here you are, drinkin' your misery from a glass when your soul's already so drunk with it it can't feel anything more.  It ain't right, Chris, and by God you _know_ it ain't right."

          Larabee opened his mouth to speak, but Buck cut him off, adding, "What Vin did out there on that wagon train, it was wrong.  You know it and I know it, but we've _all_ made our mistakes.  You made one when you didn't go lookin' for him when you should've.  But he was tryin' to make up for his.  You know he was.  He was tryin' to get back to town, to _you_ , so you'd know–"  His voice caught and he stopped, tears stinging his eyes, jaw muscles twitching.

          "Ain't your funeral, Buck," the gunman slurred.  "Leave off."

          "Like hell I will," the ladies' man managed, his voice breaking.  "He deserves better from you, Chris, and by God you're goin' to that clinic if I have to beat you senseless and carry you there myself."

          "You can try," the blond hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

          "What're y' goin' t' do?  Shoot me?"

          "Might."

          "Go ahead then," Buck snapped, standing, the force turning his chair over behind him.  He stepped around the table, reaching out and grabbing Larabee's arms, jerking the gunslinger to his feet.

Chris's gun was pressed hard against his ribs.  "Get your hands off me," he growled lowly.

          "Just because you were too damned stubborn to go lookin' for Vin while he still had a chance don't mean he ought to die alone, y' bastard.  Why do y' think he was coming back here?" Buck demanded in a low hiss, knowing he was pushing Chris as hard as he'd ever dared.  But he had to do it; he wasn't going to lose two friends tonight.  "It was for _you_ , y' sonuvabitch," he said, just loud enough for Larabee to hear him.  "He killed himself tryin' to get back so you wouldn't think he'd run out on ya again.  Least you can do is tell him you know that before he's gone, damn it.  He deserves that much from the man he loves, the one who once called him his friend."

          Chris went pale and staggered back like he'd been slapped.  His eyes rounded with terror.  "He's dying," he gulped, the truth of it stealing his breath and his strength away in an instant.

          "He's bad off, Chris, real bad."  Buck took a step closer to Larabee.  "Nate ain't sure he's goin' to pull through this one."

          "Oh fuck," Chris gasped, lurching for the batwing doors and roughly shoving aside a patron who was just coming in to the saloon.  Buck followed closely on Larabee's heels, muttering a brief apology to the cowboy as he passed.

          Ezra ordered a round for the man, on the house, and hurried to the doors, watching his friends out on the boardwalk.

          Chris grabbed one of the four-by-fours that held up the overhang, his stomach turning over violently.  He had killed his friend.  He had killed Vin.  He'd never hold him, never tell him how he felt, never make love to him the way he had with Sarah – the way he had in his dreams.  He retched into the street, again and again, until his stomach was empty and it was just dry heaves assaulting him.

          Ezra stepped out onto the boardwalk, but Buck shook his head and gestured back at the saloon.

The gambler nodded his understanding.  He would see to it they were given their privacy, or at least as much as he could manage.

          Buck turned back to his friend, waiting until Chris was through, then he took the blond by the arm and led him slowly down to the clinic.  They stopped in the livery, Buck giving Chris some water to wash his face and rinse out his mouth with.  That done, he guided the blond up the stairs to the door.

          "I'll do it with you," Buck said softly, his hand on Larabee's shoulder.

          Chris glanced at his long-time friend and offered Wilmington a small, sad smile as he shook his head.  "In case I haven't said it, you're a damned fine friend."

          Buck blushed and dipped his head.  "Come on," he said softly, "let's get this over with before we're both bawlin' like a couple 'a old widows."  _Gonna be doin' that soon enough anyway_ , he thought, remembering the look in the healer's eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Nathan looked up from the cup of hot water he was stirring herbs into, his brow furrowing with worry.  "Chris?"  But the blond didn't hear him.  Larabee was staring across the room at the towel-draped tracker.  The healer looked to Buck, asking, "What happened to him?"

          "Met up with a bottle . . . and a bad case of the truth," the ladies' man replied sadly.

          Larabee stepped away from Buck's grasp and shuffled to the bed, dropping bonelessly into the empty chair he found there.  He looked across at Josiah, who was praying softly as he bathed Vin's face with a damp cloth.  "What can I do?" he rasped.

          Josiah stopped praying and looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and smiling tiredly.  "We're still trying to keep his fever down.  Why don't you change those towels on his chest."

          Chris nodded, his trembling hands making the work hard, but not impossible.

          Buck stepped up to next to Nathan, asking softly, "He doin' any better?"

          The healer sighed heavily, telling him, "Fever's down some, infection's doin' some better, too, but if he don't wake up soon, don't think he'll be wakin' up at all."

          "He'll wake up," Chris snapped, looking down at the swollen, discolored flesh on the tracker's face.  "You hear me, Tanner?  You're goin' t' wake up, damn you.  You aren't goin' t' die on me.  I'm not going to let you . . . I don't need that damned five hundred dollar bounty yet, so fight, you goddamn, stubborn bastard.  Fight, damn you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Late that night/the following morning**

 

          The six regulators worked throughout the night, JD and Ezra joining the others a few minutes after Buck and Chris got there.  They kept the tracker as cool as they could while his fever raged.  They held him up, dribbling small amounts of water into his mouth in the hopes that he might actually swallow some of it.  They cleaned his draining wounds and redressed them, and took care of his needs.  And they talked to him.

          By late morning, against all expectations, Vin's fever finally broke and Nathan sent the rest of them off to get some much-needed rest.  Larabee, however, refused to be budged from the tracker's bedside.

          "Fine," the healer sighed, "you stay with 'im then.  I'm goin' t' get me somethin' t' eat, then sleep fo' a couple hours.  You come fo' me if he needs me, y'hear?"

          Chris nodded.

          Nathan rested his hand on the gunslinger's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.  "He's doing better, Chris.  He's got a chance now."

          Larabee nodded, knowing it wasn't much of a chance if Vin didn't wake up, and soon.  When Nathan was gone, he pulled his chair closer to the bed and reached out, taking the tracker's hand in his own and saying, "Vin, I'm hoping you can hear me . . . there's something that needs sayin'. . ."  He paused, running a hand over his hair and taking a deep breath, unsure if he could say the words he wanted to say.  But he had to, just in case.  "Hell, Tanner, you know I'm not good at this kind of thing . . . but I want you to know . . . I want you to know I know you didn't run out on us . . . you were here, before those damned drovers rode in; I'm sure of it . . . and as for what happened on that damned wagon train . . . well, a man'll act like a fool when he's in love . . . and I guess you loved her.  I'm still not sayin' it was right, but I understand love, and what it can lead a man t' do . . . t' want – right or wrong."  He reached out and pressed his palm to Vin's stubble-covered cheek, finding it cool at last.  "Come on, Vin.  You have to wake up and take some broth and medicine so you can fight this.  You can't let those bastards beat you . . . I– . . . I can't– . . . Ah, hell, Vin, I can't lose you, too," he said softly, his voice catching, choking him.  "I just can't do it, pard . . . not like this . . . please. . ."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin continued running though the darkness, but he was rapidly reaching the end of his endurance.  The voice grew steadily louder and louder, but he still couldn't make out what Larabee was saying to him, but he was certain it was Chris who was calling him home.  If he could just find the man before his strength was finally gone. . . .

          Catching sight of Little Deer, he glanced over at her, saying in Comanche, "I have t' go back, Sister.  I have t' set things right with Chris and the others.  They're m' family, 'n' I let 'em down.  I have t' make that right.  But t' do it, I got t' leave y' . . . but you'll live in m' heart ferever.  I swear it, Sister.  Help me, please.  Help me find m' way home.  I love 'im.  I love him like you loved me.  Help me, Sister."

          She gazed at him for a long moment, then smiled and nodded, her love for him clear in her eyes.  And, with a graceful wave of her hand, she showed him a shining silver path through the darkness.

He gave her one last smile and forced himself to press on, just a little farther, praying for the strength to make it.

And then he heard Chris's voice.

_*You have to wake up and take some broth and medicine so you can fight this.  You can't let those bastards beat you . . .*_

          "'M tryin', Cowboy."  And, in the distance he saw the first glow of some kind of light penetrating the darkness that had held him prisoner.

_*I– . . . I can't– . . . Ah, hell, Vin, I can't lose you, too.  I just can't do it, pard . . . not like this . . . please. . .*_

          The man's voice was close, so close.  Vin stopped, trying to figure out how to reach it, how to reach Chris.  He _had_ to reach Chris.  He would _not_ disappoint the man again, never again.  He would spend the rest of his days at the man's side, if Chris would have him.

And then, suddenly, it felt like he was floating in a huge tub of cool water, or rising up from the bottom of some black lake.  He flailed, trying to find the surface, afraid he might drown.  _Chris!_ he cried.

_*Come on Vin, I need you . . . I need you standing beside me, keeping the shadows at bay. . .*_

Vin surrendered to the voice calling him home, trusting it to guide him the rest of the way.  And, as he rose, the light grew brighter and brighter until he broke through the surface of consciousness and felt the first powerful wave of pain crash over him, stripping his breath away and leaving him caught in a storm of sensations that all seemed determined to kill him on the spot.  But, as he adjusted slowly to the aches and pains that assailed him, he heard Chris begin to speak again.

He rolled his head to the side and commanded his heavy eyelids to open.  They obeyed, albeit slowly.

          "I don't know if you can ever forgive me for leavin' you out there like that     . . . but I swear to you, Vin, I–"

          "C'ris. . ." he breathed airily, the bowed head of the gunslinger swimming into view as his eyes opened wider.

          Larabee's head jerked up and he stared into the half-opened blue eyes of the tracker.  "Vin?  You awake?"

          "I know. . ." he breathed, his voice so weak he was surprised when Larabee heard him.

          "Know?  Know what?" the man asked, leaning closer, worry and happiness mixing on his face.

          "I know . . . why I . . . done it."

          "Don't try to talk," Chris said, unsure if he'd even heard the man's words right.  _Knew why he'd done what?_   He reached over for the tin cup filled with water and medicinal powder he was supposed to get into the injured man as soon as Tanner woke.  "Here, can you drink some of this?"

          "C'ris. . ."

          "Not now, damn it," Larabee snapped, fear making his heart beat so fast it left him lightheaded.  He reached under Vin's head and lifted it, pressing the cup to the man's lips.

          After the first taste of the concoction Vin rolled his head away.  "Tastes like

. . . horse piss," he grimaced, coughing softly.

          "I don't care if it _is_ horse piss, you're gonna drink this.  Every damned drop."

Vin looked back at the gunslinger, the fear in Larabee's voice and eyes clear enough to tell the tracker that he was hurt badly.  He sighed and let the blond guide the cup to his lips again, and this time he drank all of the foul-tasting medicine without complaint.  Anything to erase the pain and fear he saw in the man's green eyes.

          Chris settled him back against his pillow and asked, "Think you can eat some broth?"

          "Give me . . . l'tl bit . . . don't feel right . . .  in m' belly," Vin said, his eyes already closing despite his best efforts.

          "Rest for a while, then.  I'll keep it warm for you," Larabee promised him.

          "Mmm," Vin replied, slipping into the welcome arms of sleep.

          Chris reached out, lightly pressing his hand to the tracker's chest, taking comfort in the slow rise and fall, taking strength in the steady beat of the man's heart beneath his palm.  His eyes closed.  "Lord, thank you," he whispered thickly.  "I truly do thank you."

          He forced his eyes open again, but the tracker looked blurry through the tears standing in his eyes.  He blinked and they rolled down his cheeks.  His heart pounding wildly in his chest, he wanted to reach out and scoop the man into his arms and hold him tight.  He wanted to kiss those lips and tell him how much he wanted him, but he knew he couldn't – not now, not ever.

          He shook his head, chasing the desire away.  Vin needed to rest.  The anything else could wait.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**An hour later**

 

          "C'ris. . ."

          Larabee woke with a start and, for a terrifyingly long moment, he wasn't sure where he was, or why his back felt like it was on fire.  But, as he sat up in the chair he'd fallen asleep in earlier, he remembered.

          "Vin?" he asked, concerned.  The tracker's blue eyes were open again.

          "Wa..er?" Tanner rasped thickly, trying to swallow.

          Chris stood and quickly fetched a full cup, helping Vin to drink it.  Then the gunslinger went for the still-warm broth, bringing a bowl back to the bed.  And, after helping Vin sit up a little, he ladled spoonfuls into the man's mouth, ignoring the annoyed glower prompted by the action.

          "I c'n do it," Vin grumbled, trying to push himself up a little more, but his muscles immediately seized and he was forced to stop.  Groaning, he sagged back against the pillows, his battered body telling him that he wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

          "Sure you can do it, but why don't you humor me and let me help?" Chris asked, adding under his breath, "Damned mule-headed Texan."

          Vin sighed, but nodded.  Then, after several more spoonfuls, he asked, "Y' find 'em?"

          "The men who did this to you?" Larabee guessed.

          Vin nodded as he swallowed again.  The broth tasted good and he was so hungry.

          Chris nodded, his expression turning stony.

          "They dead?" Vin asked, his voice just above a whisper, too afraid to hope.

          "Will be soon enough," Chris promised, feeding the man another spoonful.

          Vin swallowed it, his eyes rounding.

          "Have 'em over at the jail.  Wired the Judge.  He'll be here for a trial in a week or so."

          Vin's eyes closed and he slumped bonelessly against pillows and mattress.  His chest jerked, although from a sob or laughter, Chris wasn't sure.  "What?" he asked gently, reaching out to rest his hand on the top of the tracker's head.  "Vin, what's wrong?  Should I get Nathan?  Vin?"  He set the bowl on the bedside table and started to stand.

          "No," Tanner said, stopping Larabee before he reached his feet.  "Don't need Nathan."  He lay for a moment, catching his breath, then said, "Those men . . . they c'n . . . clear m' name . . . they was with . . .  Eli Joe . . . when he killed . . . that farmer . . . Jess Kincaid."

          Chris's eyes went wide.  "They tell you that?"

          Vin nodded.  "They's kin . . . 'a Eli Joe's . . . cousins . . . they was ridin' with 'im . . . when Eli framed me."

          Larabee's eyes narrowed and the smile that turned the corners of his mouth up was decidedly feral.  "Don't worry, they'll tell the Judge _everything_ they know.  I swear it."

          "The big one," Vin said, his eyes beginning to close again, "ain't goin' . . . t' talk. . ."

          "You leave that to us," Chris said, reaching out to pull the blanket up, covering the already-sleeping tracker's chest.

          "Chris?"

          The gunslinger turned at the sound of the voice, eyes swimming with tears as he smiled at the healer as he walked over to join him.  "He woke up, Nate, _twice_.  He drank that cup of medicine the first time, and I just got half a bowl of broth into him."

          Nathan smiled broadly, clapping Larabee on the shoulder.  The man's excitement made him sound more like Billy Travis than the feared gunman he was.  "Thank God!  Here, let me get a look at 'im."

          Chris stepped aside to give Nathan the room he needed, then walked over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee.  He noted the plate of food that was sitting on the small table.  It looked good, which surprised him.

          "That's fo' you," Nathan called softly.  "Y' won't be any use t' Vin if y' don't keep yo'r strength up.  You sit and eat that while I see how he's doin'."

          Chris nodded, sitting down and making his way though the meal Nathan had brought from Inez's kitchen.  Nathan joined him just as he finished.

"So?" Larabee asked, looking up at the healer, hope shining in his eyes for the first time in a long while.

          "Fever's gone way down, and the infection looks like it's clearin'.  Gonna be a while befo' he's ready to leave that bed, though.  And his feet still look pretty bad, but he should make it."  He shook his head.  "Don't believe it, Chris.  The man should've been dead . . . never seen anyone fight like that boy."

          Chris nodded, glancing over at the injured man.  "Stubborn as an Arkansas mule."

          Nathan chuckled and nodded.  "And I thank God fo' it, too."

          "Amen, to that," Chris agreed, his chin trembling slightly.

          "I want t' treat his feet an' clean up a couple of them other wounds.  Why don't you go get some sleep?  Josiah's comin' back in a few hours to spell me, and I want t' sit with him t'night, in case that fever comes up again.  You can take over after breakfast tomorrow, if y' want."

          Chris wanted to say no, that _he_ would spend the night with Vin again, but he knew he needed the sleep, badly.  He nodded.  "But you come get me if anything changes."

Nathan nodded.  "All right."  He saw Larabee glance at the injured man again.  "I promise.  He's just gonna sleep t'day, except when I wake 'im up to give him more medicine or more broth."

"Good luck," Chris said, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  "And if he gives you any trouble, just tell 'im you're goin' t' get me up and have me do it.  I think that might make him a little more cooperative."

Nathan grinned.  "Sounds good.  I might just do it, too, if he gives me too much trouble."

Larabee nodded, a part of him hoping Vin did.  He wasn't sure he'd be able to stay away until the following morning anyway.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

 

 

**The next morning**

 

          Josiah glanced up and smiled as Chris entered the clinic.  The blond crossed the room and looked down at the sleeping tracker, then at the preacher.  "How's he doin'?"

          "Been taking whatever I give him without a single word of complaint.  I figure he must be sick . . . in the head – never seen him so cooperative."

          A small grin lifted the corners of Chris's mouth.  "Sure he ain't dead?"

          That made Josiah smile.  "Very sure."

          Chris pulled up a chair and sat down next to the older man.  "Nathan said he was being good about the medicine.  Can't figure it out, but I don't expect it can last long."

          Josiah studied the blond for a moment, then said softly, "You."

          Larabee looked at the preacher.  "Me?  I threatened him, but–"

          The preacher shook his head.  "He saw the fear in your eyes, heard it in your voice when he first woke up and knew he was close to death.  He's been taking whatever we give him to make sure he doesn't die before he sets things right with you.  After that, I'll wager he'll get a little more ornery."

          Chris looked away, his cheeks coloring.  "He tell you that?"

          "Not straight out, but that's what he was sayin'."

          The gunslinger thought for a moment and then nodded.  He looked at Josiah and said, "He told me yesterday that those two sonsuvbitches were riding with Eli Joe when he killed that farmer.  They can clear his name, if we can convince them to talk to the Judge and tell him the truth."

          Josiah smiled, but the predatory gleam in his eye robbed the expression of any joviality.  "Confession is good for the soul."

          Larabee nodded.  "For their sakes, I hope so . . . Buck's headin' up the charge, and Nathan's coming over in a couple of hours to check on Vin; bring him something to eat.  I'll sit with him until then.  You go get some rest."

          "I'm sure brother Vin will be very glad to get something besides broth," Josiah said with a slight grin.  Then he stood and stretched, saying, "And I'll be more than happy to visit the blessed arms of slumber for a few hours.  But first I have to see a couple of men about a confession."  He looked down at Vin, adding, "Sleep well, brother."

          And with that he departed, leaving Chris alone with Vin.

The first thing the gunslinger did when they were alone was reach out and push the lank hair off the tracker's bruised face.  Vin frowned slightly, but relaxed again under Chris's tender touch.  He turned his face into the contact, which made Larabee's hand tingle.  "Just rest easy, pard," he said softly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris was reading when Vin woke later with a soft cough.  He set the book aside and picked up a cup of water, helping the tracker as he drank almost all of it.

          "Think y' can help me sit up?" Vin asked, his voice still rough and dry.  "Gettin' damned tired of starin' at the ceilin'."

          "Sure," Chris said, helping the man to sit up so he could rearrange the pillows to support him.

Vin gasped as the muscles over his ribs pulled against the broken bones, sending fiery shards of pure agony slicing through his middle.

"Y' all right?" Chris said, holding the tracker still.

Vin nodded, but the color had drained from his face and sweat had broken out on his upper lip.  He shifted slightly and whimpered softly, his eyes squeezing closed for a brief moment.

"Easy," Chris soothed and, using one hand to hold the tracker in place, quickly arranged the pillows with the other so Vin could lean back against them.  "Let me do the work . . . I've got you."  He carefully eased the man back, trying not to notice the grateful look in the tracker's eyes as he asked, "Better?" once Vin was settled.

          Tanner nodded, too winded by the ordeal to speak.  He closed his eyes and panted.  When he could breathe, the room had stopped spinning, and his stomach didn't feel like it was trying to worm its way up his gullet, he opened his eyes again, only to find Larabee waiting with a cup full of doctored water.  He finished all of it and tried not to look ill-tempered when the blond pulled up his blankets for him.

          "Need anything else?" Chris asked him.

          Vin's cheeks colored and he dipped his head, saying, "No."

          Chris grinned.  "Yeah, I know it's hell needing someone to help you, but it's better 'n sitting there wishin'," he said understandingly.  He retrieved the chamber pot, helping Vin as best he could, then fetched the tracker a cup of the medicinal tea Nathan was giving the injured man.

          "Y' know what this damned stuff tastes like?" Vin grouched, accepting the cup from Larabee.

          "I told you before I didn't care."

          Vin sighed softly, unable to do any better with his broken ribs and started sipping on the brew.  While he worked on the contents, he watched Larabee from the corner of his eye.  There was something supremely humbling about being watched the way the gunman was watching him, something humbling and comforting and just a little bit frightening.

The tea smelled at least as bad as it tasted, and Chris leaned back in his chair to escape the foul odor.  "How're you feelin'?" he asked.

          Vin thought for a moment, then replied, "Reckon I'll live."

          Chris smiled thinly.  "Glad to hear you and Nathan are in agreement on that."

          Vin stared down into his cup and muttered, "'Less this damned horse piss kills me. . ."

          Larabee grinned.  "Nathan's bringin' you something a little later."

"I swear, if it's mush 'm goin' t' crawl out 'a this bed and hunt m'self some real food."

Chris fought hard not to smile as he growled, "You'll eat whatever the hell he gives you and be glad you're here to enjoy it, y' hear me?"

Vin cocked his head to the side, meeting Larabee's eyes.  He grinned just slightly.  "I hate them damned boiled oats, y' know I do."

Chris grinned.  "Yeah, I know, but I figure Nathan knows better than you what your stomach can take right now."

Vin sighed.  "It c'n take a plate 'a eggs 'n' some 'a Inez's biscuits.  I know that fer a fact."

"I'll see what I can do," the gunman promised.  "Maybe for supper."

Vin grunted petulantly.

"The Judge'll be here day after tomorrow."

          The tracker looked up, meeting the gunslinger's eyes.  "Them two ain't goin' t' talk, Chris.  It'll put their necks in a noose if'n they do."

          "There are some things worse than hanging," Larabee told him.

          Vin's eyes narrowed slightly.

          "You don't need to worry about anything except healin' up."

          "Chris–" Vin started to argue, but Larabee held up his hand to stop him.

          "Let us help you, damn it."

          Vin thought for a moment, then met Larabee's eyes, saying, "Judge ain't goin' t' believe a word if'n they're beat bloody."

          A grin and a nod from the man in black.  "There are other ways to make a man talk."

          Vin nodded.  "Could tell y' 'bout a couple 'a 'em, if y' need some ideas."

          Larabee reined in a smile.  "I'll let you know."  He took the empty cup from the tracker and asked, "You want some broth, or some tea without the medicine?"

          Vin shook his head.  "Maybe just some water – _plain_ water."

          Chris nodded and fetched a cup for him, then settled back in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees, his head hanging down.  "Vin, we've got some things that need saying between us."

          "Reckon so," the tracker agreed with a single nod.

          "You up to hearin' me out?"

          Tanner considered the question for a moment, trying to honestly assess his condition.  "I'll try 'n' keep my eyes open," he said, "but I cain't promise I'll be able t' last fer long; sneaks up on me."

          "I don't need long," Chris told him, then turned his head to meet the tracker's eyes.  "I just want you to know . . . I was a fool, a damned fool, and it almost cost you your life . . . Hell, Vin, I'm sorry.  I never meant for any of this to happen."

          The tracker nodded.  "I know that.  An' I figure y' had just cause t' be mad at me.  Wasn't like I've been pullin' m' share 'round here lately . . . 'n' I sure as hell didn't out there on that wagon train."

          "Sarah always said I was too damned prideful, and she was right.  I let it twist my thoughts up.  I should've come lookin' for you sooner . . . You'd been away so much . . . I wanted to think you were sneakin' off to see her, but I knew that wasn't true . . . guess I thought you'd soured on us . . . on me . . . where _did_ you go, Vin?"

          The tracker sighed softly.  "Out t' the desert, tryin' t' find me a vision."

          "A vision?"

He nodded.  "Learned it from the Indians – fast fer three days 'n' stay awake . . . needed t' understand why I done what I done . . . why I ran out on y'all . . . why I ran out on the man I swore I'd ride the river with. . ."

          Chris dipped his head, saying softly, "I have to admit, I wondered the same thing out there, but I figured you must've loved her."

          "Hell, I don't know," Vin replied, his voice thick, his head down, unable to look at Larabee as he spoke.  "Maybe I did, maybe not, too . . . but when y' said y'd ride with me . . . I never meant fer that t' change, Chris . . . not in m' heart."

          Larabee nodded.  "I know.  I knew it even then. . ."  He looked up, waited fro Vin to do the same and held the tracker's eyes and asking, "Did you?  Find a vision?"

          Vin shook his head.  "Not 'til I was walkin' back t' town . . . then I saw her."

          "Charlotte?"

          "No," Vin said, his voice catching.  He fought, trying to stay awake so he could explain, but he quickly was losing the battle.

          "Why don't you get some rest," Chris said, reaching out to give the man's shoulder a comforting squeeze.  "I'll be here.  You can tell me when you wake up."

          Vin glanced at the man, grateful.  Reaching out his hand weakly, he felt Chris grab it in his own and squeeze.  "Still want t' ride with y', pard," he said, eyes closing.  "If y'll have me. . ."

          "I'll have you," Chris replied thickly.  "Now, get some rest."

          "Damned . . . bossy . . . cowboy. . ."

          Larabee grinned, still holding Vin's hand tightly in his own.  "Stubborn tracker," he replied, watching sleep take the younger man.  His thumb rubbed over the back of Tanner's hand and he looked down, watching as he continued to rub lightly.  It felt good to touch the tracker, his warm skin soft under Chris's touch.  It had been so long since he'd touched someone who meant anything to him and it ignited a longing in the gunslinger he'd given up on ever feeling again.

          But it was also confusing.  He wasn't supposed to feel things like this for another man.  Love he understood, but not lust, not for a man.  He laid Vin's hand down and pulled the covers up to make sure the tracker stayed warm.  Then he settled back in his chair and reached for his book, hoping that might distract him from the curious turn his thoughts seemed to have taken.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris was still trying to read when Vin woke again a couple of hours later.  The first thing he did was give the tracker some more water with the medicinal powder stirred in and while he watched the younger man drink it down, his face pinched in response to the bitter taste, he decided Vin was starting to look better.

          Tanner handed the empty cup back, shaking his head.  "Damned stuff could kill a buff."

          "Or cure a buffalo hunter," Chris countered.

          "Never wanted t' hunt buff," Vin said softly, his tone sad.  "Army handed me over t' some hunters after they caught me ridin' with the Comanche . . . I had t' work m' way out 'a their camp . . . took me too damned long t' do it, too.  They lived with the Jicarilla, so I got t' know their ways some.  Only thing made it bearable."

          "You don't talk much about it, about your past, I mean."

          Vin shrugged.  "Ain't much t' say, 'cept what I need t' tell y' now."

          "You sure you're ready for that?" Chris asked, looking for the signs the tracker was fighting sleep and finding none.

          "Reckon I've waited long 'nough."  Vin took as deep a breath as he dared and glanced over at the window and the sunlight beyond.  "After the war, I headed back t' the only family I really knew."

          "The Indians?"

          Vin nodded.  "But the Kiowa I'd lived with after my ma died was already rounded up 'n' put on reservations, or killed . . . mostly killed . . . I fell in with Comanche."

          Chris snorted softly and shook his head.  "Lucky you didn't end up dead."

          "Not lucky," Vin corrected, "I knew some 'a 'em.  They took me in, but I wasn't much more 'n a slave at first.  Had t' prove m'self b'for they'd make me one 'a 'em."

          "And, knowing you, you did."

          A single nod.  "They made me ol' Red Flower's son.  She'd lost her boys t' the Army and need a man t' hunt fer her."

          "She adopted you?"

          "Reckon that's as good a way t' say it as any."  Vin fell silent, finding it more difficult to tell Chris the truth than he'd imagined.

          "What happened?" Larabee asked him softly.

          "Red Flower still had a daughter livin' with her, her youngest . . . she was a year or two older 'n me . . . most beautiful thing I'd ev'r seen. . ."

          Chris smiled a little, remembering his reaction the first time he had seen Sarah.  She had been the most beautiful woman on earth in his mind – still was.

          "But seein' as how I was her brother, weren't no way I could court 'n' marry her.  But I would've, if I could."

          "She must've been something special."

          Vin nodded.  "She was kind 'n' full of life . . . her laughter sounded like music."

          Larabee nodded, dipping his head.  Sarah's laughter had always sounded like music to his ears as well.

          "She was being courted by another warrior, Black Knife.  He was older 'n her – a lot older – but he was respected, and he'd beat the Army a few times so he had some position in the tribe . . . but he was mean, Chris.  Mean down deep in his heart and soul.  When they married . . . she changed."  Tanner stopped, scrubbing a hand over his face.  "I knew he was beatin' her, but there weren't a damned thing I could do 'bout it.  I tried talkin' to Red Flower, and the chief, but the Army was crowdin' in, tryin' t' round the People up 'n' move 'em ont' the reservations, warriors was dyin' . . . there jus' weren't no time."

"One young girl wasn't that important to them," Chris said when he heard Vin's voice catch.

          "Reckon not . . . She got so she looked so sad 'n' scared . . . I didn't know what t' do.  I was ridin' with one 'a the warrior societies, learnin' how t' track 'n' hunt their way.  It took me away from the camp . . . when I got back, I found her. He'd broke her neck.  I'll never ferget those black eyes 'a her's, lookin' up at me, so sad . . . I took her back t' Red Flower."

          Chris sighed sadly.  "It wasn't your fault, Vin."

          The tracker shook his head.  "Maybe, maybe not . . . but when I saw Charlotte, she had the same kind 'a eyes, Chris.  I knew, just lookin' at her, her husband was hurtin' her.  I jus'– . . . I jus' wanted t' do fer her what I couldn't do fer– . . . I jus' wanted t' help her, is all . . . don't know if I loved her, or the memory of– . . . but what I done was wrong, I know that . . . 'n' ridin' out on y'all, on you, hell, that was more 'n jus' wrong."

          Chris looked at the tracker, understanding making his heart ache for the man.  "You did what y' had to, Vin, to honor the memory of that girl, nothing wrong with that."

          "Runnin' out on y'all was wrong."

          "I would've agreed with you, but not now.  Hell, if I'd met a woman who reminded me that much of Sarah on that train, don't you think I would've done the same thing?  Done _anything_ to protect her?"

          "But it weren't you," Vin corrected.  "I broke m' word, 'n' that's all a man's got, 'sides his name, 'n' I ain't even got that 'til 'm cleared 'a that murder charge."

          "Ain't got it back _yet_ ," Chris told him.  "You'll be cleared, Vin.  I swear it."

          "Don't promise what y' cain't deliver, pard."

          "I won't."

          "Still broke m' word."

          "Maybe so, but it was for a good reason.  And I guess I broke mine too when I didn't come looking for you sooner.  So what do you say we call it even?  We both made mistakes, but it's over now, done."

          "I jus' want y' t' know 'm sorry 'bout what I done, 'n' that's why I done it."

          "And I was a damned fool not to trust you," Chris said softly.  "I damned near got you killed.  You sure you still want to ride with me?"

          "Reckon so," Vin said, his eyelids starting to droop.  "Cain't think 'a none better. . ."

          Chris watched the younger man fall back to sleep and reached out, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  "Neither can I, partner, neither can I."

          Then, with a gentle touch, he caressed the man's face, enjoying the feel of his whiskers on his palm.  His hand moved back to Vin's shoulder and chest, tenderly touching the miracle that lay before him.  One way or another, he was going to build a life with the tracker.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Two days later**

 

          The Judge stepped down off the stagecoach and was immediately greeted by his daughter-in-law and his grandson.  Chris watched the family exchange hugs as he slipped inside the jail, leaving the other regulators outside.

          He walked over to the desk and took out his Colt, setting it on the desktop, and then walked over to the cells and stopped, saying, "Judge is here."

          "Ain't that nice fer him," the older of Vin's two attackers snarled.

The younger brother looked ready to throw himself on Travis's mercy, but without Lyman to back him up, the Judge would have to assume the peacekeepers had just frightened Tom into telling him what they wanted him to hear.

Chris met and held Lyman's gaze, saying softly, "I know the others have been in here, telling you stories about what they're going to do to you if you don't tell the Judge the truth about the murder of Jess Kincaid.  And I'm guessing you know as well as I do that they won't actually do any of it."  Larabee's lips curled back off his teeth in a feral smile.  "Me, I'm another matter all together.  I'll be honest with you, you tell the Judge the truth, you'll probably hang.  You don't tell him, he's going to sentence you to a few years over in Yuma prison.  And then he's going to ask me to see to it that you get there."

          The gunslinger walked over to Tom's cell, peering in at the man.  "You," he snapped, watching the younger man jerk and cower, "you're going to die trying to escape.  Shot in the back of the head."

          The outlaw sat, huddled in the corner of his cot, trembling.  Of all of the men to come in, terrorizing them, this one Tom truly believed.  He was a dead man, whether or not he talked.

          Chris walked back to Lyman's cell, capturing the big man's gaze again.  "But you . . . running isn't your way."

          "Nope," the older man spat, looking defiant.

          "Didn't think so.  But I'd wager the Judge will believe you tried to help your brother.  And he'll believe that you got away from us . . . Too bad the Apaches are going to find you before we do.  See, we've been having trouble with 'em on and off – renegades, mostly, from off the reservation.  Locals tell me they have a special way of killin' their enemies, and that's how they're going to find you.  You know what that way is?"

          "Don't know.  Don't care," the man growled, standing and moving up to the bars to stare Larabee down, but the gunslinger was more than a match for the outlaw.

          Chris shrugged, then, with his lightning-quick reflexes, reached between the bars and grabbed the outlaw's shirt, jerking him up tight against the bars and hissing, "I think it's only fair to tell you – give you a chance to die quick, at the end of a rope."

"Don't do me no favors, Larabee," Lyman growled, but he was honestly afraid for the first time.

"These renegades, they take their prisoners and they tie 'em to a tree.  Then they cut their bellies open and pull their guts out, nice and slow.  They hang 'em up in the branches so the crows'll come and eat 'em.  Takes a while for a man to die like that.  And the whole time you stand there, watching the birds eat your fuckin' guts while ya bleed t' death."  Chris smiled, the gesture so cold, so predatory, that Lyman knew the man was telling him the truth.  He swallowed hard.

"Go t' hell," the outlaw managed, but it came out sounding scared, even to his own ears.

"Plan to," the gunslinger replied casually, his smile turning even colder.  "But you're gonna get there a whole lot sooner, ya worthless bag of shit."  He released the big man and walked back to the desk, sliding his Colt into his holster before he looked back to the two men one last time.  "It's your choice, boys."

And then he was gone.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Judge Travis stood at Vin's bedside, looking down at the injured man while Nathan explained everything that had been done to him by the two brothers.  The older man shook his head sadly and sighed heavily, glad the young tracker had slept though the list.

          "He going to make it?" he asked when Nathan was finally finished.

          "Yes, sir, he is."

          The Judge nodded.  "Can't say the same for the two men responsible for this brutality."  He turned and left, his expression set in hard lines of anger.  Larabee and the others met him outside the clinic.  He glanced from man to man, wondering how they had convinced the Long brothers to confess, but decided he might not want to know.  Still, his curiosity demanded he at least ask.  "Gentlemen," he greeted them.

          "Well, Judge, what's goin' t' happen to them boys?" Buck asked, his hands on his hips, his stance demanding justice for his friend.

          "Given that they have confessed to being participants in a murder, which they then blamed on an innocent man, they'll hang, although I would've been hard pressed not to order the same punishment if they hadn't, given what I just saw in there.  Is he really going to be all right?" he asked Chris.

          Larabee nodded.  "Nathan thinks so, and that's good enough for me.  What about getting that bounty off Vin's head?"

          "I'll wire the law in Tascosa and start things moving.  Eventually Mr. Tanner will have to return and see the local or circuit judge in Tascosa, but I think the confessions will be all he needs to clear his name."

          The assembled peacekeepers erupted into cheers, JD pounding Buck on the back, Buck punching Chris's shoulder.

          The door to the clinic opened and Nathan leaned out, scowling and scolding, "I've got an injured man in here who's tryin' t' get some sleep."

          "We were just leavin', Nathan," JD assured the healer.  "But the Judge just said he can clear Vin's name."

          The healer smiled.  "Well, that's gonna be some powerful medicine for him, that's fo' sure."  He stuck his hand out to the Judge, saying, "Thank you, sir."

          "And thank you, Mr. Jackson," Travis said, shaking the healer's hand, "for another amazing demonstration of your skills."

          Nathan nodded and dipped his head, a little embarrassed.  He disappeared back inside the clinic.

          "Gentlemen, I suggest we take this budding celebration to the saloon, for a proper fête," Ezra suggested.

          "Thank you anyway, Mr. Standish," the Judge said, "but I'll be dining with my grandson and his mother this evening."  He looked to Chris, asking, "Would you care to join us, Mr. Larabee?"

          "Thanks anyway, Judge," Chris said, "but I've got some good news to deliver when Vin wakes up – don't figure he should be kept waiting."

          Travis nodded, impressed as he always had been by the loyalty these men had for one another.  He looked at the others, asking, "How about you boys?"

          The others considered for a moment, then agreed.

"I'll send Nathan along," Chris said, then watched them head down the stairs, the older man asking, "Never had a couple of hardened outlaws like the Long brothers just up and confess to a crime, let alone murder.  Any of you boys want to tell me how you managed it?"

"Well, now, Judge, that's a long story," Buck said, "and I don't think it's one we ought to be tellin' you over the dinner table."

          Travis laughed.  "That bad, huh?"

          "You have no idea," Ezra replied, their voices fading.

          Chris shook his head.  He turned and went inside the clinic.  "The Judge is buyin' dinner for everyone.  Why don't you go on and join 'em?  I'll sit with Vin."

"You sure?" Nathan asked him.

Larabee nodded, taking a seat in the bedside chair and reaching for his book.

"I'll bring you back something," Nathan promised.  "Vin, too."

"Long as it ain't mush," Chris said with a grin.

Nathan chuckled as he grabbed his coat and ducked out the door.

Chris watched the door close, pausing before he opened his book.  He looked down at the sleeping tracker, allowing himself a small smile.  "It's over, Vin.  It's almost over."  Then he leaned over and lightly kissed the sleeping man's forehead.  The now familiar tingle tickled his lips.  He still wasn't sure what he was going to do about his feelings for the tracker, but he was going to find a way to explore them.  He had to, or he'd go mad.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A week later**

 

          Vin endured while the peacekeepers fussed over him, getting him ready for the wagon trip.  Nathan was still keeping him off his feet, which hurt if his legs weren't straight out in front of him, or elevated a little.  They were taking him north to Colorado, at his request, and he was glad to finally be escaping the clinic, even if he had to put up with their mother-henning him.  He was damned tired of staring at the same four walls.

          So, after a wagon trip to Tucson, Vin, Chris and Nathan caught a train heading north.  They arrived in southern Colorado a day later and took a hotel room close to one of the many healing springs that dotted the area.  Nathan spoke to the local doctor, since he planned to head back to Four Corners the following day, telling him about Vin and getting the man's promise that he would drop in to check on the tracker every couple of days.

Chris, however, was staying with Vin until he was well enough to return home.

"Y' be sure to see Dr. Tippit," Nathan told the tracker.

          "'M fine," Vin assured the healer as Jackson packed to go home.

          "Y' be sure to take it easy, too, y'hear me?"

          The tracker nodded, his blue eyes locking on the healer's.  "Thanks, Nate."

          Jackson grinned.  "Yo'r welcome.  I'll see y' in a couple of weeks."

          Chris walked the healer to the door, and thanked him as well.

          "Make sure he soaks every day, and eats," Nathan instructed.

          "I will," Chris promised him.

          And then Nathan was gone and the two men were alone in their hotel room.  Chris turned to the tracker, asking, "So, what do you want first, soak or get something to eat?"

          "Soak," Vin replied.

          "Soak it is," Larabee replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**That night**

 

          After a time in the mineral hot springs, Chris took Vin back to the hotel using the same wheeled chair JD had used after he'd been shot.  Once he got the man back into bed, he handed him his Mare's Leg and headed out to get them some supper.  It only took him a few minutes, but when he returned, he found Vin sound asleep.

          He set their meals up on the small table in the room, then walked over and moved the wheeled chair closer to the bed before he called softly, "Vin?"

          The tracker came awake immediately, the Mare's Leg coming up in his hands.

          "Easy, pard," Chris said soothingly, "just me."

          The Mare's Leg was immediately lowered and Vin blinked to clear his sleep-blurred vision.

          "Supper's on the table," Chris told him.  "Let's get you into the chair and I'll wheel you over."

          The tracker grumbled, but he let Chris help him into the chair and push him over to the table, positioning him so he could eat.  His legs were extended straight out in front of him, forcing Chris to sit almost beside him.

          The meal passed in silence as the two men enjoyed the tasty fare.  Then, when they were finished, Chris collected the dishes and took them back to the café.  The owner, a handsome widow in her forties, sent back some coffee and pie with him.

          After he and Vin finished the pie and coffee, Chris helped the tracker get ready for bed, then settled him in and covered his legs.

          "How you feeling?" he asked the man.

          "Better," Vin replied.  "Hope the springs'll heal up m' feet in a few days.  Think I c'n walk on 'em now."

          "Probably could, but it'd probably hurt like hell," Chris added.  "You just stay off 'em 'til the doctor tells you otherwise."

          Vin sighed heavily.  "Ah hell, Larabee, y' cain't expect me t' jus' lay here ferever."

          "It's not forever, it's just until the doctor tells you otherwise."

          That night Chris lay in his bed, trying to ignore his aching erection – a product of knowing Vin was so close, and still out of reach.  He fought back a groan, knowing he was going to have to talk to Vin, and soon.  If he told Tanner, maybe he could get a handle on his feelings, take back some kind of control over his body.

          He fell asleep, thinking about how he could broach the subject, and what Vin might say.  His dreams were a fearful mix of rejection and passionate loving.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A few days later**

 

          Vin sat up in the bed and swung his legs over the side, letting them dangle just above the hardwood floor of the hotel room.  He winced slightly as the blood pounded into the still-healing flesh, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the last time he'd tried this.

          "Well?" Dr. Tippit asked him, watching the tracker's expression carefully.

          "Hurts some," Vin admitted, "but not like before."

          "The physician smiled.  "Your Mr. Jackson did an amazing job.  I think you should be back on your feet in a few more days, but just for a short time each day, until the pain is gone."

          "Jus' be glad when I c'n walk to the privy," Vin sighed.

          Dr. Tippit chuckled softly.  "Well, it won't be too much longer."  And with that he turned and headed for the door.  "I saw Mr. Larabee at the café, he'll have breakfast delivered before long, and it's time I broke my fast as well, so good day, Mr. Tanner.  Rest well."

          "Thanks, Doc."

          "I'll drop by in a couple of days and we'll see if we can't get you back on your feet," the physician promised.

          Vin watched the man leave, hoping Chris wouldn't be too long.  He was hungry, and he missed the man's company.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Two days later**

 

          Vin tentatively put some weight on his feet, which throbbed, but not so badly that he wanted to stop.  Then, he sucked in a breath and stood up from the edge of the bed.  Pain shot through his feet and he gasped slightly.

          "Hurt?" Dr. Tippit asked him, frowning.

          Tanner nodded, but added, "Some, but ain't too bad."

          "Try taking a few steps," the physician instructed him.

          Vin took another breath, held it, and took a tentative step, then another, and another.  He let the breath out with a puff and grinned.  "Ain't bad at all."

          Across the room, Chris watched the experiment, a mix of concern and excitement on his face.  It was clear there was still some pain, but not enough to stop the tracker from making a careful trip around the room.

          "Well now, that looks good," the doctor said.  "Just a little while on your feet today, more tomorrow.  When you can stay on your feet for a few hours at a time without any pain, then I'd say you're ready to go home."

          "C'n I take a ride?" Vin asked Tippit.

          "I don't see why not – if it's not too painful."

          When the physician was gone, Vin turned to Chris and said, "Got a place I want t' show ya, if y' want t' take a ride."

          Chris nodded.  This was it, his chance to talk to Vin when they were alone.  He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was to come.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin led the way into the foothills, the quiet wilderness a welcome reprieve from the days spent in town.  They rode for a couple of hours, their saddlebags packed so they could spend a night or two in the wilderness.

          And the spot was well worth the ride.  It was beautiful hot spring, nestled at the end of a small box canyon, secluded and pristine.  Chris set up a camp for them while Vin rested, then caught them some dinner.  With the rabbits spitted over a small fire, the two men stripped off their clothes and slid into the hot water of the springs.

          Chris watched the tracker come up out of the water, dripping wet, beside him, his grin melting the gunslinger's heart.  How could he risk their friendship by telling Vin how he felt?

How could he not?

          Vin moved beside him and Larabee felt his cock begin to swell as much as the heated water would allow and he hoped it wouldn't be too obvious.  He dipped his head, feeling his face go red.

"Somethin' on yer mind?' Vin asked him.

His head came up and Chris met the tracker's expressive blue eyes, knowing his attraction would be obvious and, to his total astonishment, he felt Vin's hand brush his cock under the water, then return to get a better feel before sliding away.

          Chris gasped, his head arching back, his eyes sliding closed at the exquisite pleasure that rippled through his groin with the touch.

          Vin, his face flushed as well, turned and climbed out of the water, sweetly embarrassed by his own boldness.

          Chris got a good look at the tracker's backside as he splashed out of the springs, water dripping from two mounds that pumped and glistened wetly as he grabbed up his clothes, but he was still naked when he bounded into the trees, calling, "Catch me if y' c'n, Cowboy!"

          What else could he do?  Chris followed, scooping his own clothes into his arms before trailing after Vin.  Moments later, he was deep in the forest, the quiet surrounding him like a muffling veil.  He caught sight of the slim, naked body trotting ahead, looking a little sorefooted, and followed, his cock hard and bouncing in the air in front of him.  Vin was following a deer trail, or maybe some old Indian path a casual observer's gaze would have overlooked.

          Chris finally caught up to him in a clearing a few minutes into the chase.  He halted at the edge, gawking at the vision in front of him.  Vin was climbing an old ladder leaning against the side of an abandoned barn.  He inhaled sharply, awed by the slight of the tracker's lean body, entirely naked, ascending those old wooden rungs with the graceful fluidity of a mountain cat.

          He hurried forward, peering upward into the dappled light.  God, Chris thought, the man was beautiful.  His cock twitched, and the gunslinger shivered in anticipation.  Did Vin know what he wanted?

          "Damn, Larabee, what's takin' y' so long?" Vin called down as he disappeared into the opening into the loft.

          Chris climbed up and, once he reached the top, peered inside, trying to penetrate the deep shadows with his sun-dazzled gaze.  When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a vision as exciting as anything he'd ever beheld.  Vin had tossed his clothes down on an old pile of hay and was sprawled on them, spread-eagled and waiting.

          "Reckon we ought t' talk 'bout that," he drawled softly, nodding at Larabee's erection as the man climbed in.

          Chris blushed and looked away, ashamed.  "I–"  He stopped, not at all sure what to say.  He'd rehearsed this moment a hundred times by now, but he couldn't remember a single word.  So he took a deep breath, tossed his clothes down next to Vin and then lay down next to him, both men staring up at the ceiling.

          "Can't explain it," Chris said softly.  "Guess it started out on that wagon train, but I didn't want to face it.  And then, when we found you out in the desert and I thought you were dead. . ."  He paused for a moment and Vin made no effort to reply, knowing Larabee wasn't finished yet.  When he found his courage, he continued.  "Seeing you like that, knowing it was my fault . . . it made my heart hurt so much I thought I might die of it."

          "Wasn't yer fault," Vin told him quietly.

          "Yes, it was."

          "We both made some bad choices, that's all.  Y' said so yerself."

          "Mine could've gotten you killed."

          "Reckon mine weren't much better.  If we hadn't overheard O'Shay's plans, you and the others might've got killed."

          Chris digested that, accepting it.  Tanner was right.  They had both made mistakes, bad ones.  "Holding you out in the desert . . . before that, even . . . the feelings I had . . . it was like it was when I'd first met Sarah.  I knew I had feelings for you . . . I wanted– . . . I wanted to be with you."

          "Y' wanted to lie with me?  Like y' would with a woman?"

          Chris's cheeks turned a deep crimson.  "Yeah . . . still do."

          Silence fell between the two men, Vin pondering the revelation, Chris knew.  And, several minutes later, the tracker said, "When I was livin' with the Kiowa, I saw some things y' don't see 'mong white folks."  He paused there, collecting his thoughts, and then continued.  "Guess I was dyin' after what they done t' me, but I heard yer voice 'n' I knew I had to find ya."

          "And you did.  You told me about your sister."

          Vin nodded.  "Don't reckon I'd've fought so hard if I didn't have feelings fer ya."

          Chris grinned.  "But what kind of feelings?" he asked him.  "Feelings like mine?"

          "Like I said, I've seen things 'mong the Indians y' don't see in the white man's world. . ."  He rolled over onto his belly and looked at Chris, blue eyes nearly invisible in the shadowy light.  "Do what y' want t' me," he invited, his voice a husky whisper.

          Larabee swallowed hard.  "Vin," he cautioned, "you don't know what you're saying."

          "Hell I don't," he replied.  "Y' think yer the only one here with an achin' prod?"

          Chris started at the comment.  He hadn't even thought to look, too caught up in the confusion that made his chest hurt.  He wasn't at all sure he should take Tanner up on his offer, but he couldn't stop himself either.

          He moved before the fear froze him where he lay, crouching between Vin's parted thighs.  He reached out and touched the man's back, long healed now.  "You, uh. . .?" he started.

          "Nope, never have, but I seen it done a few times.  Never met anyone who caught m' fancy . . . 'til I met you, but I never thought y'd be interested in lovin' Indian ways."

          As Vin spoke, Chris's hands moved over Tanner's back and shoulders, enjoying the feeling of the man's muscles under his hands.  The various scars that crisscrossed the tracker's skin made Larabee's heart ache, and not just for what the Long brother's had done to him, but for all of the pain and suffering he'd endured throughout his life.

          Vin sighed softly, enjoying the gentle touch that explored his skin.  Then he felt a soft kiss on his shoulder and trembled with desire.

          "We should go back to the camp.  The rabbits," Chris said.

          Tanner nodded.  "'M hungry," he admitted, knowing they would pick up where they were leaving off.

          "We could come back here.  If you want to," Chris told him, reluctantly moving away.

          Vin rolled back over onto his back, grinning playfully.  "Reckon we could."

          They dressed and walked back to their camp, finding the rabbits almost cooked.  Chris set some coffee close to the fire, then pulled out a chunk of bread the café owner had packed for him, along with two apples.  He handed Vin half of the bread, and one of the apples, and they ate that, waiting for the rabbits to finish.

          "What was it like?" Chris asked him as he handed over one of the cooked rabbits.

Vin knew what he meant.  "Looked 'bout the same as Buck courtin' one 'a his lady-friends."

          Chris grinned, his eyes on his rabbit.  "I don't understand it.  Ain't natural."

          "Ain't nothing t' understand," Vin replied.  "Jus' is."

          "And you want that?" Larabee asked cautiously.  "You feel the same way I do?"

          "Reckon I do."

          Chris felt his heart begin to beat faster.  "You better soak your feet again after we eat.  That little run through the woods couldn't have been good for them."

          Vin smiled a little as he replied, "Didn't hurt 'em none.  But I c'n do that."

          Chris looked up, catching the tracker's gaze.  There was a hunger there that both frightened and excited him like nothing he'd ever seen before and he felt himself stir once more.  He dipped his head and concentrated on his dinner.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          When they had finished eating, Vin stood and walked over to the hot springs.  He took off his moccasins, rolled up his pant legs and let his feet soak in the hot water.  It felt good and he flopped back onto the ground, his eyes closed.  In his mind he could feel Larabee's hands moving over his skin again.  It was a wonderful feeling.

          After Chris put out the fire, he walked over and sat down beside the tracker and, reaching out, lightly rubbed his hand over Tanner's chest, feeling his nipples go hard under the material of his shirt.

          Larabee waited for several minutes before he said, "Think I'll take another dip."

          "Mmm," Vin replied, but he didn't move or open his eyes.

          Chris stood and undressed again, then slipped into the water.  When he surfaced, pushing his hair off of his face, he saw Vin undressing to join him.

          They soaked in the hot waters for a while, letting the mineral-laden water work the tension out of their muscles.  Then, with an unspoken agreement, they climbed out.  Chris pulled on his boots, Vin his moccasins.  Then they each picked up their clothes and bedrolls and headed for the old barn.  Vin also carried his saddlebags slung over his shoulder.

          At the barn, they climbed back to the loft, opening their bedrolls and tossing their clothes into piles.

          Vin laid down on his belly again.  He glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes meeting green in what Larabee knew was an invitation.

          He rolled out his bed alongside Vin's and lay down so he could reach out and run his hand over Tanner's back.  He inched closer, kissing shoulder blade and spine, one hand reaching down to caress a taut cheek and squeeze, making the tracker sigh softly.

          Chris sat up, his fingers kneading into both cheeks, which made Tanner groan softly with pleasure.  The gunslinger glanced down, finding the wrinkled slot he had exposed.  It looked very tight.

          "Y' goin' t' try what yer thinkin', y' best grab m' saddlebags first," Vin told him.

          Chris frowned, but leaned over the tracker and grabbed them.

          "Look inside," Tanner instructed.  "There's a small box wrapped up in a piece 'a buckskin."

          Chris found it.  He took it out and opened it, asking, "What is it?"

          "Some oil I got from Ming," Vin said.  "He said it'd help heal up them burns I got, but I reckon it'll help y' fit.  Indians used bear grease."

          "Bear grease?" Chris asked with a soft chuckle as he poured a little of the oil onto his fingers, then reached into the tracker's crack, sliding along the silky surface until he connected with the small pucker, which quivered, snapped and shuddered as he teased it with light strokes.

          "They thought it made 'em more potent, gave 'em the power of the bear," Vin explained, then let out a long sigh and raised his butt to meet the probing fingers.

          Tanner's gasps encouraged Chris's testing fingers and he poked one fingertip into the crinkled opening, working it open.  He reveled in the way Vin responded, shoving his hips toward him in an obvious appeal for more.

          He pressed his finger farther into the quivering hole.  It was tight, silky, and blistering hot.  Chris felt scorched by the throbbing little slot that enveloped his poking finger and it stole his breath away.  It was so easy to imagine his cock sliding into that heat and he sighed in an echo of Vin's own.

          "Feels good," the tracker grunted, his butt pressing up a little higher.  "Poke me with yer finger."

          "I have another idea," Larabee said.  He kept his finger buried, working it around a bit while he slid his other hand under Vin's belly.  He found the tracker's stiff cock there and Tanner groaned when he wrapped his fingers around it, pumping it a few times while he kept probing with his finger.

          "Mmm," Vin groaned, "feels good . . . so good."

          Chris didn't want to hurt Vin, so he released his cock so he could pour a little more of the oil into his crack.  It was slick, and ran down the tracker's ass cleft to pool at the pucker where his finger was still firmly planted.  He immediately slid his finger out and then back in.  Tanner rewarded him with a deep sigh, obviously enjoying the ministrations.

          He looked up, catching the intense blue eyes on him and on his hands.  He shoved deeper, the additional oil easing the entrance.

          Vin closed his eyes, groaned, and thrust his ass higher.  The little slot snapped around the probing finger so tightly, Chris wondered how the hell he was going to get his cock in there.

          He worked his finger in and out of the tight opening as he gazed down at Tanner.  Dappled with shadows and sunlight, his body was incredible and it excited him every bit as much as Sarah's had.  Dusty tan, Tanner's body was lean and muscular.  His waist was slim, his hips gracefully grinding.  His thighs were nicely muscled and covered by light-blond down; his ball sac hung between his parted thighs.  The sac was also covered with silky, almost invisible down.  His handsome face stared back over his shoulder with a yearning expression that made Larabee's cock twitch in anticipation.

          Beginning to work him more vigorously with his finger, Chris added more oil until he was sliding quickly in and out.  Vin's hole responded slowly but eagerly, opening up slightly.  It was enough to embolden Chris to press a second finger against the taut entrance.

          "Easy now," he warned Vin.

          "'M ready," Tanner replied, his ass writhing against Chris's hands.  He wanted all Larabee had to give him.

          Chris pushed and the spongy entrance resisted for a moment, but the oil and Vin's excitement were enough to allow him to drive inward.  The tracker whimpered and his ass cheeks jiggled enticingly as Chris slipped two fingers past his sphincter and into the heated depths beyond.

          "Try to relax," Chris told him.

          Vin shoved his thighs wider apart and buried his head in his hands.  That helped.  Chris took his other hand and used it to spread his crack and hole apart.  That too helped.  Then he began to work his fingers deeper still, twisting and poking, pulling out and shoving in.  Vin's steady groans, his quivering ass cheeks, and his writhing hips told Larabee how much he was enjoying it.

          The gunslinger moved his free hand around Tanner's waist and under his belly again, finding his cock and squeezing it.  That had the tracker gasping in just a few seconds.

Chris fucked the tight hole with the fingers of one hand while he pumped Vin's stiff cock with the other.  Within moments, Tanner was a moaning mass of heated flesh between Larabee's hands and Chris knew he could make him come there and then.  But they both wanted more.  They both _needed_ more.

          He pulled his fingers out and gazed down at Vin's spongy, quivering, oozing hole.  He poured more oil from the bottle over it and set to work.

Releasing the tracker's throbbing cock, Chris scooted up between Vin's thighs and, while the tracker waited expectantly with his head in his arms, Chris pressed his cock, so full it was almost purple, against that winking slot.  The sight of his lance poised against that vulnerable hole almost gave him second thoughts.  How could he possibly fit?

          "Chris," Vin moaned, waving his ass in the air.

          His doubts vanished in the wave of desire that surged though him.  He stared down at the tentative connection and marveled again as the shadow light played across their bodies, both sweaty now.  He poured some of the oil into his hand rubbed it over the aching length of his cock, then along the length of Tanner's crack.  The tracker's pouting hole trembled and twitched with eagerness.  As slick as he could make them, he aimed the mushroom head of his cock at the entrance of the hot hole and pressed it there.

          "Relax, just let it slide in," he said soothingly as he started to press forward.

          Vin was trembling all over and Chris ran his hands tenderly over the tracker's back and butt as he pressed harder and harder against the slick crack.  Tanner finally started shaking so hard Chris had to grip the tracker's hips to hold him still.  Suddenly, he felt the rim give way, and he was sinking into the hole.

          "Oh God," Larabee gasped, shivering nearly as much as Vin was.

          Tanner turned his head and held Chris in a gaze that took the gunslinger's breath away.  His blue eyes were liquid, full of emotion.  His sweet mouth opened lusciously as he licked his sweaty lips.  He gasped as he felt the flared head of Chris's cock opening him up, penetrating him.

Chris thrust forward with his hips, just enough to get the head past the rim and into the hot, tight channel beyond.  "Oh shit," he hissed.  It felt like his cock head had been swaddled in hot, wet silk.  Vin's ass quivered, pulsed and throbbed, stripping thoughts away.  With a groan, he pressed in deeper.

          "Oh Chris," Vin gasped.  "Fill me up, Cowboy," he begged as he raised himself up to his knees and shoved his ass back to swallow more of Larabee than the gunslinger had already offered.

          Unable to stop himself, Chris lunged forward at the same time, impaling Vin to the root in a single stroke.

          "Chris!" Tanner shouted, his voice echoing in the rafters.

          Larabee's cock completely enveloped, the gunslinger was reveling in the collection of sensations that assailed him, including the press of soft flesh against his thighs, and Vin's ass, pressed hard against his balls.

          Tanner dropped his head and squirmed beneath him.  It was obvious he wanted Chris to take him, so he did.  Larabee began thrusting in and out, slowly but forcefully.  Every prod elicited a little whimper from the tracker, a sound that was just like music to his ears.

          Chris closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure of Vin's still-tight hole, which felt like a vise around his cock.  But the oil allowed him to slide in and out.  He began to stroke him a little faster and the intensity of Tanner's moans increased.

          He opened his eyes and looked down, watching himself disappear into the molten passage.  His hands, which had been on Vin's back and ass, moved beneath the tracker, this time exploring the lean chest, covered with a light coat of hair.  When his fingers grazed the tracker's nipples, Vin whimpered and shuddered from head to toe.  Larabee teased them more with light pinches and tugs.

          Instantly, Tanner became a mass of whimpering lust beneath him and the tracker returned every thrust of Chris's cock with a perfectly matched pump of his ass.

          They went on like that for a long time.  Tanner moaning and whimpering so much, his body was shuddering so much, Chris didn't realize that the tracker had already come once, not until his hand dropped from nipple to cock and he found it still hard, but covered with sticky seed.  Vin, however, continued to thrust backward to meet the gunslinger's pounding cock with hearty, grunting enthusiasm.

          Chris returned his attention to Vin's nipples and worked them both hard while he leaned into the tracker and drilled his ass.  It had loosened up considerably by then and he finally allowed himself to let go, ramming into him as hard and as fast as he could.  Vin kept pace with him, too, urging him to "take me hard," although his drawling voice was no more than a rasping moan by then.

          Chris felt his balls begin to roil, and it seemed like his cock was on fire.  Vin's pulsing hole wrung his shaft mercilessly.  Sweat flowed from his forehead, and the gunslinger bellowed as he began to shoot his load, Vin writhing wildly under him as the tracker came a second time, his asshole snapping and convulsing, the muscles across his back tensing and arching.

          They rode the wild abandon out together.

          Finally, Chris fell on top of Vin and the tracker dropped to the hay in a sweaty heap beneath him.

          They rolled around and faced each other.  Tanner laid his head on Chris's shoulder, then turned his face to the gunslinger's.  He gave Chris a tentative kiss on the lips, and Larabee responded, opening wide and shoving his tongue deep into the warm mouth.  Vin gurgled and thrust his body against Chris's.

          The gunslinger chuckled softly and pulled back ad little.  "You ain't ready for that yet."

          "Mmm," Vin replied, relaxing against Chris once again.  "Ain't never felt nothin' like that in m' life."

          "I have," Chris said softly.

          "Yer wife?" Vin asked him, his voice going shaky with emotion.

          Larabee nodded.  "In my heart . . . how I feel about you, how I felt about Sarah, they're the same."

          Vin trembled.  "Cain't be," he replied softly.  "She gave y' yer son . . . cain't be nothin' more special 'n that."

          Chris smiled sadly.  "It was special, more special than I could ever say . . . but that doesn't change how I feel about you."

          Vin pressed closer, holding Chris tightly.  "Thought I'd lost y' fer sure when I ran off with Charlotte."

          "Did you lay with her?" Chris asked him.

          "No.  I knew she weren't sure, even if she said she was.  And when I come back . . . I knew she wouldn't be able t' leave her husband again."

          "I think he'll be better to her now," Chris said.  "Grief can change a man for the better . . . although it's not always for the better, look at me."

          "Never felt 'bout no one like I do 'bout you."

          Chris shivered, know that he was opening himself to the same pain he'd felt when Sarah and Adam had died, but he had no choice.  He cared too much for Vin not to.  "I'm just so damned sorry my damn pride got you hurt," he said thickly.

          "That's long past," Vin said.

          Larabee knew they had both agreed that they'd each made mistakes, and

that it was over, forgotten, but he also knew he'd spend the rest of  his life trying to make up for almost getting Vin killed.  He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, letting himself drift into the contentment that was enveloping him.  And, on his closed eyelids, the images of Vin's brutalized body slowly faded, replaced by the expression of love he'd seen on the man's face, and the desire he'd seen in his eyes.  At long last, he fell asleep, knowing he was holding the other half of his soul in his arms.  And he was never, never letting go again.

 

 

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